Unfortunate Truths
by natleebee
Summary: Charles is a bright eyed professor loved by his mutant pupils. Erik can't stand him. But everything changes when someone from Charles' past shows up. Erik discovers the truth but Charles wont accept his help. Full summary and warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Full Summary:** Charles is a happy go lucky professor, and for some reason, Erik can't stand him. He finds him to be obnoxiously peppy and emotional. But after overhearing a disturbing phone call between Charles and someone, Erik's opinion of the telepath changes. When an old friend shows up to visit, Erik becomes suspicious of his relationship with Charles.

**Warnings:** M for sexual content/possible non-con in later chapters. If it's not your cup of tea, click away please.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters

**Author's note:** This is my first fanfic, kindly go easy on me.

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><p>Erik didn't hate him, per se. No, it was more of an intense dislike. A dislike so intense, in fact, that Erik couldn't stand to be in the same room as the peppy little-well, the last bit goes without saying. The enthusiastic, baby-faced graduate that earned so much of his dislike went by the name of Charles. He spent his free time fawning over his students, prancing through the corridors with a literal bounce in his step, and eating all of the popsicles in the communal fridge. Or at least that's how Erik saw things.<p>

Having just settled in, Erik took to wandering the halls of the mansion and familiarizing himself with what was apparently his new home. It was odd to think of it that way; home. He hadn't a place to call his home in years. But Charles, ever the optimist, assured him that he would feel a part of the family in no time. He hugged him, Charles hugged him when he said that. Erik revisited the memory with distaste. According to a scrawny ginger named Sean, his reaction to the sudden violation of personal space was 'too funny, bro'. He grimaced, recalling Charles' hot breath against the nape of his neck as he practically lept into his arms. It had been uncomfortable and strange, the younger man's mess of brown curls tickled his chin and left him with a lingering scent of lilacs. Erik shook himself of the memory.

It was nearing noon, signaling the second round of training for the day. Begrudgingly, Erik made his way out of the mansion and across the lawn to begin their session. He hated to admit it, but Charles had actually made some progress with the students. They were eager to learn and responded to Charles' optimistic enthusiasm. Erik stood on the sidelines as he watched the man let out a bark of laughter and give that peekish scientist named Hank a pat on the shoulder. He was congratulating him on some feat of accomplishment, though Erik was sure it wasn't anything too spectacular. Charles was gesturing about wildly, a broad grin lighting up his features as he rambled on. With an audible whoop, he flung his arms around Hank and spun him around. The scientist blushed furiously but returned the embrace with equal exuberance. Erik chuckled under his breath at the scene. Whatever Charles' methods were, they were working.

Later that evening, when the students were spent and gone to bed, Erik took to wandering the halls while Charles entertained himself with a glass of scotch in his bedroom. For all the chaos that the house endured, it seemed oddly empty at night. There was a countless number of rooms that Charles himself had yet to explore. As he turned around what must have been the hundredth corner that night, Erik found himself before an unfamiliar set of doors. They were impressive in size, but aged and weathered, presenting an ominous aura. Erik felt the sudden urge to inspect whatever was behind those doors, but he thought better of it. This wasn't his house, no matter what Charles claimed. He stopped in mid-retreat as a voice, barely audible, spoke from behind the doors. Erik felt a prickling of unease in his mind. Pressing his ear to the ragged surface, he strained to listen. Silence at first. Then the muffled voice was heard again.

"I don't know why you would ever think that this is a good idea."

It was Charles.

A surge of curiosity hit him. Why was Charles in that room? Who was he talking to? _What_ wasn't a good idea?

Erik silenced the stream of questions and listened.

"After all you've done, do you really think I'd allow you back in my life?" Charles spoke with an air of distaste that Erik had never heard from him. He could feel the bitterness in his voice.

"I won't-no, don't you dare-"

A growl of frustration and a slight scuffling commenced, followed by a crash. Without a second thought, Erik flung the doors open and stalked inside.

He expected the room to be dank and unkempt, considering the condition of the doors. But the interior was warm, decorated with memorabilia and family photos. Charles sat on a large bed carelessly stripped of its linens, shards of glass littering the surface. His head was in his hands as violent sobs racked his body.

Erik stood in stunned confusion. He didn't understand. He wanted to understand.

"Charles. Oh, Charles." Erik strode across the room and kneeled beside him. His hands hovered in front of him, unsure of what he should do with them. But Charles saved him from the responsibility as he scooted off the bed and wrapped his arms around Erik's neck. The weeping man held onto him like a lifeline, his unrelenting sobs filling the air. Erik felt a deep ache in his chest at the sound. He held Charles close, stroking his hair gently and muttering words of comfort in his ear.

Hours passed and Charles' sobs turned to soft hiccups. His breathing slowed and steadied. Erik could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against his chest as he carefully lifted Charles from their tangled position on the floor. There was no way he was letting him stay in this room tonight. Glass crunched under his shoes as he made his way across the room and into the hallway. The only option was to take Charles to his own bedroom. He couldn't just leave him on a couch for the students to see. They would ask questions. Questions Erik didn't know the answers to.

Charles was a heavy sleeper. Save for the occasional mumblings in his sleep, he was out. Erik himself settled onto the armchair in the corner. Sleep didn't come easy to him that night. His thoughts were racing. Who could have caused Charles that much turmoil? And why?

Erik felt his outlook slowly shifting. He couldn't explain it. There was a strange desire to protect growing inside him. The need to keep Charles safe was stronger than other he possessed. And there wasn't a single thing on earth that could challenge it.


	2. Chapter 2

So here's chapter two. There isn't any mature content in this chapter, but the next one will be full of it. Just a heads up!

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><p>The following day was no different than any other. Erik crossed paths with Charles in the hallway that afternoon, who promptly greeted him with a bright smile and a wave. He wasn't sure what he thought would be different, Charles was a cheerful person by nature. It wasn't as if he would be moping about the mansion just because of one bad night. Erik felt an uneasy knot in his stomach at the thought of yesterday's events. He had never seen the man that upset. When Erik woke up after hours of twisting and turning, he found the bed already made and Charles nowhere to be seen.<p>

He resumed his usual activity of pacing down the halls. It was a Sunday, which meant no training. Erik was annoyed when he first heard the idea of having the weekend's off. The kids needed to hone their abilities, and taking free time certainly wasn't going to help them do that. After several hours of wandering around lost in thought, he found himself at the kitchen entrance; apparently there was some kind of technique to getting around the place he needed to learn.

His timing couldn't have been better, however. The colorful individuals Erik now called students were bustling around the room as they prepared for dinner. A few entertained themselves by balancing plates on their heads and squealing with laughter when they nearly fell. Others were already seated at the spacious dining table and engrossed in conversation. Erik leaned against the door frame and surveyed the activity with a small smirk.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a series of breathless giggles and uneven footsteps. Charles stumbled into the kitchen carelessly, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling with laughter as he hung off of Hank's neck. His tousled hair fell softly over his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance. Erik's breath hitched in his throat as their gazes met. For a moment they lingered; Charles looking up at him with those wide and innocent eyes, Erik staring into them. The connection broke with a sudden yank of Charles' shoulder.

An unpolished-looking man was skulking behind him with a rather gruff expression on his features. Erik had been so engrossed in his colleague's entrance that he hadn't noticed a new arrival. His brow furrowed in suspicion as he gave the stranger a none too friendly glance, taking in his unkempt mop of black hair and the stubble across his jawline. He hadn't expected Charles to have such brutish company.

"When did you show up?" Erik asked coldly, not enjoying the hand that was still placed firmly on Charles' shoulder.

"I was here the whole time!" The man retorted indignantly, clearly affronted that his presence had gone unnoticed.

Charles, either unable to sense the tension or choosing to ignore it, let out a small chirp of laughter. "You've been ignored," he pointed out teasingly, motioning for Hank to join the rest of the kids at the table.

"Better question," Erik interrupted harshly. He was growing wary of this stranger, especially when his hand still hadn't moved from Charles' shoulder, for god's sake. "Who are you?"

The man grimaced and opened his mouth to reply in what was undoubtedly going to be a smarmy fashion, but Charles sooner cut him off.

"This is an old friend of mine from the Oxford days," he stumbled slightly over the words in his haste to get them out. "Jackson Crawford," Charles clarified. He then shrugged away from the 'old friend's touch, much to Erik's relief. He wasn't sure of the motivations behind his relief, all he knew was that his concerns evaporated slightly with Jackson's nonverbal dismissal.

"Anyway," Charles began with a nervous chuckle. "He's in town for the week and needed a place to stay, so I offered one of our spare bedrooms." He fidgeted uneasily, toying with the hem of his sweater.

If Erik disapproved, he refused to show it. The excitable professor had gotten under his skin many times before, and he wasn't going to let it happen again. Feigning disinterest, Erik gave a grunt of acknowledgment, all the while keeping his eye trained on Jackson. Charles cleared his throat quietly, disrupting the uncomfortable silence. He jumped slightly when both pairs of eyes turned on him.

"Well, I suppose we should, uh, get you settled." Charles stammered, running his fingers through his tousled locks. Erik vaguely wondered what it would feel like to grab hold of those messy curls himself. He flushed uncharacteristically when the ridiculousness of the thought hit him.

"Are you feeling alright, my friend?" Charles had inched closer to him and was peeking at Erik under thick lashes.

The scrutiny of his gaze caused him to suppress a choke and feign extreme interest in a set of dishtowels. "Perfect, thanks."

Charles pouted, seemingly unconvinced by his display. He gingerly moved aside a strand of Erik's sandy blond hair, fingers tracing his jaw lightly as he let his hand fall. Erik closed his eyes as Charles laid a hand gently across his forehead. Charles pressed his own against the other side of his hand, leaving little distance between their faces. This time when he felt Charles' hot breath against his skin, Erik did not move away. One of the two moved forward barely, just barely. Close enough for their noses to meet. And without warning, the blessed contact was gone. Erik felt the warm, sweet breath leave his skin and his eyelids fluttered open. It left him shivering.

"W-what was that for?" he asked hoarsely.

Charles positively beamed.

"I wanted to check your temperature, my dear friend." He explained in that sing-song voice. "It's best when you compare it to your own," Charles tapped his forehead and winked.

Erik could have gaped at him. He winked, Charles fucking winked.

While Erik seemed to be in a stupor of sorts, Charles had turned to Jackson and murmured something under his breath. The visitor had been forgotten on the sidelines; he wasn't happy about it and it showed.

Erik shook himself from his trance to see Jackson giving Charles a look that could only be described as menacing. His eyes almost seemed darker as he and Charles exchanged words in hushed tones. A suggestive step forward from Jackson and a startled jump from Charles told Erik all he needed to know. His jaw tightened, a slight rattling of silverware disrupting their frantic whispers.

The trio was currently unaware that every occupant in the room was fixated on them, sitting in stunned silence as they watched the scene progress.

Charles turned to face Erik abruptly, lips trembling, eyes wider than they should be.

"I think it's best that I get you to bed, Erik." His voice was several octaves higher than normal, even as he tried to disguise it. "I'll leave Jackson to get himself situated."

The suddenly skittish mutant grabbed Erik's sleeve with a quaking hand and dragged him unceremoniously from the kitchen.

Erik made a mental note to keep an eye on Jackson.

Charles took the stairs two at a time, maintaining his grasp on Erik's sleeve.

"What just happened down there?" Erik demanded, fear slowly seeping into his veins. When he received no answer, Erik's frustration grew. There was something going on between Charles and his so-called Oxford friend. And it clearly wasn't anything good.

"Charles," he growled in warning, ready to give the younger man his two cents if he didn't fess up.

Charles stopped. They stood in front of his bedroom door, Erik unsure of how they even got there.

"I can't tell you," he mumbled, almost dejectedly.

This wasn't the Charles he knew. The one who, until just recently, Erik couldn't stand. He'd rather go back to ignoring the young professor than have him moping around. Erik felt an unfamiliar surge of desperation, a fervent need to protect him.

"My friend, you must tell me," he used a gentleness in his voice he never thought he possessed.

"In time, Erik." Charles sighed. He lifted a shaking hand to his face, carefully smoothing back a lock of hair. With surprising steadiness, he ran his thumb across Erik's cheek as he cupped his chin affectionately.

"Get some rest," Charles whispered, fingers grazing his chest before he disappeared down the corridor. Erik tried vainly to still the frantic beating of his heart. The shaken man lay in bed hours later, hopelessly awake. He could still feel the ghosting of Charles' fingertips on his skin, burning a path of prickling warmth in their wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three is here! Warning: there will be brief attempted non-con in this chapter, not graphic.

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><p>Erik didn't know what to expect. The past few days had been peculiar to say the least. And exhausting. Incredibly exhausting. Good to his word, he kept a sharp eye on Jackson. But the man seemed to elude him every chance he got. At the same time, however, he went everywhere with Charles. They were bound to cross paths eventually.<p>

Morning training began as scheduled; the students lounged around the courtyard in their tracksuits, some picking absentmindedly at their nails, others still dead on their feet from lack of sleep. The only aspect of their routine that was missing was-

"Where's the professor?" Sean whined from his sprawled position on the grass.

Erik scoffed as he looked down at the boy, smothering a grin with a grimace. The freckled mutant really wasn't a morning person. But he was right, Erik didn't see Charles anywhere. He was never late for practice, especially when there were 'bright minds to teach and mutations to nurture', as he put it.

"Why don't you all get warmed up and I'll find him," Erik raised his eyebrow expectantly when the group stayed motionless.

"Go on then, take a lap or whatever it is you do." He grumbled, waving a hand at them as he turned on his heel.

Charles was either fumbling over his material for the day or burying his nose in a book. Erik concluded that those were the most sensible options. The man may have been late, but he was still predictable.

A sharp twinge of panic stopped Erik in his tracks. He knew all too well that the feeling was not his own. Countless sessions with Charles taught him to recognize the difference between his emotions and those that were being projected.

He followed the disturbance cautiously, heading for the dense trees that surrounded the mansion. Erik tried to rationalize things, he assured himself that Charles just slipped and fell and was making a big deal over nothing. But why would he be in the forest? He felt the rush of panic again. No, something wasn't right. Erik sped up his pace, pushing past the branches and narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the face. By the time he sensed Charles' presence, he was flat out running.

What he saw when he burst through the clearing made him come to a halt.

Charles was pressed haphazardly against a tree, held in place by a thick hand around his neck. His expression was twisted in pain; eyes squeezed shut, brows knitted together, and cheeks flushed a rosy red. He seemed to be trying to speak, but his soft gasps and pants cut him off before he could manage a word. It was when Charles jerked his body to the side and Erik looked down that the older mutant understood his friend's predicament. His blood ran cold. The man pinning Charles against the tree had managed to wrench open his trousers and was jerking his hand against the squirming professor. Charles dug his nails into the hand on his neck, but that only spurred the man on. He brought him forward and then slammed him back against the tree, earning a strangled cry from Charles.

"I'd tell you to knock it off," Jackson began, whispering furiously in his ear as he leaned in close. "But we both know that I love it when you fight back."

Then Erik was on him, wrenching him back by the shoulder and flinging him to the ground with ease. Charles gasped for breath and hurriedly buttoned his trousers, scrambling away from his attacker.

Erik circled the man on the ground with a predatory glint in his eyes. He lashed out, his foot connecting with the man's rib and creating a sickening crack. Jackson howled in pain.

"Wait, it's not what you think!" he babbled as he got to his feet. "He wanted it, I swear."

Erik snarled and twisted his hand upwards, using the metal on the man's belt to lift him into the air. Jackson looked petrified.

"What the hell is this?" he thrashed around violently, trying to fight the hold Erik had on him.

"Erik!"

It was Charles who spoke then. He was swaying on his feet, but standing nonetheless, his eyes imploring him to stop.

Damn Charles and his belief in the greater good.

"Just put him down, I'll make him leave and never come back."

Erik turned to face Jackson once more. He almost said no.

And then Jackson was falling. He landed in a crumpled heap on the ground before him. Charles warily approached the two. His face was stern but the fear and embarrassment were clear.

"Pack your things immediately and never come back," Charles spoke slowly and cautiously, as if he were afraid his voice would betray him.

Jackson shakily got to his feet and looked between them. A pitiful expression came over his face.

"Charles, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, you know that right?" he stammered an apology.

"Leave. Now." Charles would not be fooled. Not again. The hardness in his eyes relayed the message to him.

Jackson backed away slowly, then took off running in the direction of the mansion. There was a silence in the clearing that was palpable. Erik spoke first.

"He was the one on the phone, wasn't he?" he asked grimly, though he already knew the answer.

Charles didn't answer.

"I suppose I should get to practice," he clapped his hands together once, a forced look of cheeriness clouding his face.

Erik was at a loss for words. But what could he possibly say to someone who was just-no, he couldn't. He wouldn't. Charles was fine. Jackson was gone and everything was fine.

He watched as Charles disappeared through the trees, the bounce in his step absent.

Everything was not fine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning:** Graphic non-con in this chapter. If you don't like it, skip over the italicized part at the end.

**Author's Note:** We get a brief look at Charles and Jackson's old relationship, but not quite the entire story. This chapter is quite graphic. There will be a more detailed explanation of what's really going on in the following chapters. Thanks for reading if you did so far!

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><p>To the untrained eye, Charles was not unlike his usual self. He carried on with the practice session, encouraging his students' conquests with cheers and applause. If he was any more jittery than normal, they took no notice. But Erik kept a close eye on him for the remainder of the day, not that Charles made it easy for him. At any moment that the telepath realized he was alone in Erik's company, he found any number of reasons to excuse himself. Be it a neglected paper he had to attend to, feigned illness, or even the ludicrous idea that he had forgotten to wash his hair that morning. Once again, they found themselves to be alone in the kitchen. Erik caught him after he mumbled something about needing to fold his socks. He grabbed Charles by the bicep and whirled him around.<p>

"Don't!" Charles cried out, attempting to jerk away from Erik's grip with an unsettling urgency.

"Calm yourself, Charles." He felt a pang of remorse at his actions, but something needed to be said.

Charles looked absolutely stricken. He tore at the hold on his arm frantically, eyes flashing and breathing labored. A growl of frustration left his lips when the hand only tightened around him.

"Charles, please-"

"Get off, get off me right now!" He was yelling now, though it sounded more like unintelligible screaming to Erik.

The kitchen doors burst open and a mess of students tumbled in. Hank bustled in soon after, knocking Sean to the floor in his hurry to get through.

"What is it, what's going on?" Hank pulled Sean off the floor and looked carefully between the two men.

"What the hell did you do to the professor?" An older boy, Alex, asked him gruffly, glowering at him.

Erik glared right back. "I didn't do anything. This is a discussion between adults." He stressed the last word and looked pointedly around at the group. They didn't seem to be going anywhere.

"Doesn't look like a discussion to me!" Sean did his best to look intimidating, folding his arms across his chest and mimicking Alex's expression.

Erik was at a loss; he wasn't any good at comforting children. And he didn't even know if comforting was what they needed. Charles mercifully stepped in at that moment.

"It's alright, kids." He assured them warmly. "We just had a bit of a disagreement."

Sean seemed more at ease after the professor's words. Hank watched them warily, and Alex still looked as if he had smelled something foul.

"Everything is fine, cross my heart." Charles crossed the room towards them and patted Alex on the shoulder.

"Calm your mind," he soothed the aggravated teen.

Behind him, Erik scoffed. _Hypocrite_. He thought loud enough for Charles to hear.

"Alright, off to bed with you all." Charles shuffled them out of the room without a backwards glance.

Erik fell into a fitful sleep.

_Stop!_

The word echoed in his mind. Spoken by a faint voice that seemed miles away.

_Please._

Clearer that time. The voice was demanding and authoritative. But its fear was evident.

_No, I-_

Then pressure. Suffocating and relentless. Phantom hands squeezed at his throat, tighter and tighter every second. The voice pleaded softly.

_Erik._

He thrashed violently into awakening, desperately choking for air. Erik let out a rattling breath as he righted himself, pressing hesitant fingers to his lips. He was baffled for a moment until the last word resonated in his mind. That was no dream. Erik came to grim awareness. It was a projection.

"Charles," he whispered. And in a split second he was out the door.

Foolish. Incredibly foolish. Erik berated himself as he stormed down the flight of stairs and through the hallways. He knew who it was. Who else could it be? He should have made sure that man had left. Even better, he should have killed him when he had the chance. Fortunately, Charles was a man of routine. It was nearing one in the morning, sending Erik hurtling towards the library where Charles undoubtedly was. His nails dug into the paneled walls as he barreled around the corner. Erik assured himself halfheartedly that he would reach him in time. It's not too late. He'll be okay. Repeating the mantra in his head gave Erik little hope, however. The doors of the manor's library seemed to jump in front of him abruptly. Adrenaline propelled him forward into the heavy oak, bursting through the doors with ease. What he saw all but intensified his panic.

Charles was on his back. The man who he recognized to be Jackson Crawford was pressed against him, holding a fistful of his hair and muttering in his ear.

Charles opened his eyes blearily. There was no fight left in them. A painful tug of his hair caused him to give a muffled yelp. The startled noise set Erik into motion. He charged forward and was on Jackson in a matter of seconds. The man was grabbed roughly by the collar and launched across the room. He looked around wildly, stumbling to his feet in confusion as he attempted to right himself. Erik's knuckles connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling back onto the ground. He was driven by a fierce rage unlike any other. Jackson cowered on the floor, shielding his face before the next blow came.

"Never again," Erik grunted as he pummeled his fist into any visible part of Jackson's flesh.

"Not allowed. Don't you dare." He panted in harsh fragments, sweat pooling at his brow.

As Erik drew his fist back once more, he heard it.

_Stop this, my friend._

In his maddened state, Erik had left Charles on the sidelines. He scrambled towards Charles who sat slumped against the bookshelves, head lolling to the side. His eyes were closed, face unreadable.

"Charles," he panted when he reached his friend, kneeling beside him. An agonizing silence met his ears.

"Dammit, Charles." Erik shook him by the shoulders as roughly as he could without hurting him. Charles expelled a shaky breath and sat up gingerly. He met Erik's troubled gaze with a reassuring smile.

"Erik," he greeted him almost cordially, as if the previous events had never occurred. He gripped the shelf for support and heaved himself to his feet, limbs trembling with the strain. "Let's forget about this nasty little indiscretion, shall we?" Charles' smile twitched and faltered.

Erik ran a hand through his hair in frustration and took account of the fact that Charles was almost completely undressed. He could have spat. Whirling around to attend to his unfinished business, he realized with a growl that Jackson had fled the room. Again. He'd let him go again.

"Erik," a small voice quelled his anger.

"Could you take me to bed, please?" Charles was looking up at him with chagrined eyes.

It was all he could take not to break down right there. Erik nodded and extended his hand. As if he was unsure of himself, Charles tentatively gave him his own and the two made the trek back to his bedroom in silence. Though Erik swore that he heard tiny sniffles as they climbed the stairs.

Erik insisted on helping him into bed. But Charles didn't complain much anyway. And when he patted the empty side of the bed hopefully, Erik couldn't say no.

Charles was curled up on his side, staring at him with that wide-eyed gaze. Erik wanted to close his eyes, look away. He couldn't. Instead, he took Charles' hand and held it tightly in his own.

"I think," Charles began softly. "I think you should see something,"

"You don't have to-" Erik protested, but he was gently shushed.

"I want to."

Before he could say another word, Erik's mind was flooded with memories. Charles' memories.

He showed him the day when he was accepted to Oxford, he and Raven jumping and screaming in delight. Next was the first friend he made at the university, a bumbling little guy who asked Charles if he knew anything about picking up girls. Then was the day he met a sophomore named Jackson Crawford. Charles projected all of his admiration for the older boy into Erik's mind. It was pure and innocent and harmless. But Charles didn't stop there. He projected all the fear, the hurt, and the loathing that came afterwards. The memories ceased for a moment, and Erik opened his mouth in confusion before promptly shutting it at what Charles showed him last. It was vivid, he could see the scene before him as if he were there himself.

_Charles was in the library. He was struggling to reach for a book on one of the shelves when a pair of arms grabbed him around the middle. He knew Jackson was prowling around, but he didn't expect him to manhandle him like they were school kids again._

_"What do you need, Jackson?" Charles presented himself with a tone of forced civility. He wanted to be rid of him as soon as possible._

_"Someone's cranky," The other man teased without any real trace of humor. He was standing too close for Charles' comfort, one arm still lingering on his side. He had that look. The one Charles knew and feared more than any other._

_"Yes, well. I must be off," Charles hurriedly turned to leave, but was instantly pulled back by his collar and pushed to the ground._

_"Stop," he retorted futilely, hoping that he sounded more commanding than he thought._

_"Remember this, Charles? Isn't it so familiar?" Jackson said above him._

_Charles suppressed a shudder._

_"It's quite familiar and I'd like it to stop immediately."_

_"Don't play hard to get," The larger man growled, his eyes glinting. He seemed to enjoy having Charles at his feet. But he knew that already._

_"You're better than this." Charles appealed to his good nature, though he knew it was long gone._

_Jackson ignored him._

_"You'll like this, I promise."_

_"Please," Charles was getting desperate, he knew where this lead and he didn't want to revisit it._

_But Jackson was on him now, one hand gripping his hair painfully while the other forced his mouth open._

_"No, I-"_

_Jackson took that moment to shove his entire length into Charles' mouth, groaning as the man beneath him choked slightly. Charles knew there was no point in fighting back. There never was._

_"Fuck, I forgot how good you were at this." Jackson leered. He curled his fingers in Charles' hair tightly, using it to drag him forward and push further into his mouth. Charles gagged in protest._

_"Think that's bad?" The larger man panted, nails scraping at his scalp._

_"Think that hurts?" He yanked sharply on his hair._

_"You have no idea. You'll be begging when I'm done with you."_

_Charles moaned feebly; he should have been used to the humiliation by then, but somehow it always got to him._

_"C'mon, Charles. Put some effort into it." He mocked him breathlessly, hips jerking forward violently._

_And then, to Charles' astonishment, the hold on his head was suddenly free and he felt himself being pushed onto his back. "What are you-"_

_"Relax, I'm not done playing yet." Jackson dropped to the floor and straddled him, roughly yanking at his shirt and trousers._

_"God, no. Please-"_

_"Shut up, I'm getting sick of your whining." His tone was firm and dangerous, making Charles certain that there would be no more fighting at this point._

_Jackson wasted no time in forcing his knees apart and dragging him closer. Charles felt pressure at his entrance, then searing pain. He opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips. He heard Jackson say something, but he didn't know what. His eyes were glazing over, head dropped to the side. It would be over soon enough. He just had to endure it._

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><p><em><strong>End note:<strong> If you're wondering about why Charles hasn't used his powers in defense, there will be an explanation in the following chapter. I hope I haven't been too confusing with that.  
><em>


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